{"id":646,"date":"2011-10-08T22:03:37","date_gmt":"2011-10-08T22:03:37","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fatbeetle.com\/blog\/?p=646"},"modified":"2011-10-10T07:30:34","modified_gmt":"2011-10-10T07:30:34","slug":"the-flowers-that-bloom-in-the-spring-tra-la","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.fatbeetle.com\/blog\/?p=646","title":{"rendered":"The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la"},"content":{"rendered":"
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The flowers that bloom in the spring,
\n\t\t\tTra la,
\n\t\t\tBreathe promise of merry sunshine —
\n\t\t\tAs we merrily dance and we sing,
\n\t\t\tTra la,
\n\t\t\tWe welcome the hope that they bring,
\n\t\t\tTra la,
\n\t\t\tOf a summer of roses and wine,
\n\t\t\tOf a summer of roses and wine.
\n\t\t\tAnd that's what we mean when we say that a thing
\n\t\t\tIs welcome as flowers that bloom in the spring.
\n\t\t\tTra la la la la,
\n\t\t\tTra la la la la,
\n\t\t\tThe flowers that bloom in the spring. 
\n\t\t\t<\/span><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n
Injury news. Well I’m back at the gym now, slowly getting back into shape. Any exercise which requires a pushing motion (ie.most of them,) are now a bugger though. For instance my bench press has gone down 20 kilos on  reps, and any "above shoulder" exercises I do using the pretty silver girly dumbells. It’s embarrassing being there at times, though Lee-Anne baulked at my idea of getting a t-shirt printed with; “I was in a bike crash, I’m still recovering,”<\/span><\/strong> on it. But thanks for asking how I was travelling. Those of you who did ask.<\/div>\n
Both of you.<\/div>\n
Oh, and despite my best intentions, I have not been completely abstinent from the vino. I still have a glass or two of red on a Saturday and Sunday night, and therefore people have still been getting haranguing phone calls from me, too early on their Sunday morning (UK time). Most have put up with them. So far.<\/div>\n
My virtually fat free diet is going apace, but is not overly exciting. Have you ever tried soy cheese? No? Good! Take my advice and keep it that way.<\/div>\n
One plus that’s come out of this whole bike crash shambles, was that they paid me out fully on the bike, and I even made a slight profit on it. This was helped by the fact that they also paid out in full for my helmet and leathers. As I had got the helmet free, and the leathers second hand, I was $400 up on the deal. I also had the great pleasure of owning and running the bike for two years, without paying a penny for it outside of running costs.<\/div>\n
But with the bike payout, and a trip to Matt the Goth accountant<\/a>,<\/a> who got me a five grand tax rebate, we’ve covered our plane tickets home, and paid of most of our accommodation in the UK. Don’t worry boys; Lee-Anne has agreed that I can still get a new bike once we’re back from the UK! (I fancy a Suzuki Bandit 1200cc<\/a>, I'll probably end up with a Postie bike<\/a>. Check that for a burn out!!)<\/span><\/div>\n
 So we went to see Dylan Moran<\/a> at the Canberra Centre, and bloody good it was too. But he’s obviously  maturing , and like Ardal O’Hanlon <\/a>was talking about babies and sofas, and other domestic things. Still bloody hysterically funny though and probably the best live stand up around these days. Oddly enough, or probably not, he got his biggest cheer of the night when he went off in a rant at a guy in the front row who he saw texting. “For fuck’s sake, be here now,’<\/em> was a particularly apt response to the idiot. (Although the loud shout of "WANKER!" by someone with a  strong Welsh accent also got hearty approval.)<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
So I decided that, before our next trip home, (lots more on this later,) I’d get an Aussie passport. This would have the advantage of gaining me consular protection by Australian Embassies when I'm abroad, should I ever need it, but more importantly means I’d be able to join which ever queue was shortest at Sydney airport. Oh, and the time before last when I came back, I bumped into an old school mate. We had a conversation, throughout which he point blank refused to believe I lived in Aus. That was a memorable conversation;<\/div>\n
Me;<\/strong>  “Hi John!”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
John<\/strong>; “Alan mun, didn’t recognise you, how you doing?”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
Me;<\/strong>  “Fine mate, just back here for a holiday, see the folks and that.”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
John<\/strong>; “Where you living then?”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
Me;<\/strong> “ Canberra.”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
John;<\/strong>  “Canberra?”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
Me;<\/strong>  “The capital of Australia.”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
John;<\/strong> “Sydney’s the capital of Australia.”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
Me;<\/strong>  “Lots of people think that yeah, but it’s actually Canberra<\/em>.”<\/span><\/div>\n
John;<\/strong>  “No it’s not.”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
Me;<\/strong>  “Yes it is mate, I should know, I live there.”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
John;<\/strong>  “No you don’t, you're taking the piss.”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
Me; <\/strong> “Yes I do, lived there for about seven years now. Look, I’ve got these Aussie dollars I was just about to change.”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
John;” <\/strong>You’ve just been there on holiday.”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
Me;<\/strong>  “No, I’ve got my Aussie driving license here somewhere…”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
John<\/strong>; (edging away)  "Anyway, good to see you, must be off, I’ve got things to do now…”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
Me;<\/strong>  “Look, my passport’s got my permanent resident visa in it.”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
John;<\/strong> (speeding up) “Pull the other one…”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
Me;<\/strong> “Come back you bastard…”<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n
 <\/div>\n
I'll get an Aussie passport then, that'll fucking show him.<\/div>\n
 <\/div>\n
These days you can apply for your passport online, so I did the doings at work to kill time.<\/div>\n
I printed them all off and asked Gary my mate to endorse it. “I can’t, you need a passport number, and I don’t have a passport.” <\/em>Ok, so I’ll ask Debs, another work colleague, to endorse it, “Sure no problem, I’ll bring it in next shift.” <\/em>So after a fortnight of reminders, she brought it in. “Debs, this passport expired two years ago,” <\/em>she looked at it, “Hell, I'd better get a new one, I’m going to Bali next month.” <\/em>So I asked Steve to endorse it, and good as gold he did.<\/div>\n
Next thing, arrange a “passport interview “<\/a>at the local post office. No worries; I sorted it online. I turned up at the post office on the due date,  and the girl goes though my paperwork thoroughly, and then looks at my photo; “Ooh these are no good, you’ve got some teeth showing and there’s some reflection from your glasses.” <\/em>So we agree that I need new ones done, and she kindly (for a fee) agrees to do them there and then. This would be fine, but I then had to wait for another couple of days for Steve to endorse the back of the image again. Another problem was created by my,t the day after they were taken, shaving of three months worth of beard growth, (light stubble,) and so I now look fuck all like my passport photo. Again.<\/div>\n
So Steve endorsed them, and I booked another passport interview online. I turned up at the post office and a different girl went through my stuff. “Ooh, these are no good, you’ve printed the forms double sided, they’re supposed to be single sided, I can’t accept them I’m sorry.”<\/em><\/div>\n
So why hadn’t the silly bugger who first checked them told me that? I printed off another set, single sided,  and took them back to work for Steve to sign. By this point he was getting worried that I had some sort of people smuggling scheme going.<\/div>\n
No sign of the passport arriving yet, I live in hope.<\/div>\n
The local flower festival <\/a>is on at the mo. I went there on one of my days off and had a nose around. Quite pleasant this year, the displays are all well thought out, and the stalls and stands have some entertaining stuff for sale. But soon after I'd visited, a couple of evenings later in fact, Bethy asked me; "Do you fancy going to “Nightfest” at Floriade<\/a>?”<\/em> I looked it up online, and it sounded like a fun thing to do, not really my cuppa, but a good family night out,  so I agreed, “Good, can you get a ticket for Reece as well?”<\/em>  Hmmm… Reece is Bethy’s latest beau; me and Lee-Anne hadn’t met him yet, so ok, why not? Reece is a  "plank spanker", <\/a>most boys of his age are.<\/div>\n
So on the night we picked him up, and went off to Zen Yai,<\/a> our favourite Thai restaurant.  (By the way, someone who shall remain nameless<\/a>,  after last month’s write up, had the gall to take the piss out of me for complaining about the restaurant we had eaten at, and the fact that I had complained that they had not given recommended wines for each item on the menu. Just goes to show the sort of plebs I knock about with then.) <\/span>After a tidy meal, we drove over to the Nightfest, where Bethy and Reece vanished off into the dark to do their own thing, (snog.) Me and Lee-Anne strolled around, and it was bloody wonderful! The whole of the pace was lit by moving spotlights, so the beds of flowers constantly changed hue and tone. There were jugglers and fire eaters, outdoor cinemas, gardening demonstrations, stand up comics, strolling musicians and of course the fairground with its large illuminated Ferris wheel was in full flow.<\/div>\n
Me and Lee-Anne went up in the Ferris wheel. While it was at the top of a turn,  I told her the story on the news earlier, of how a light aircraft had crashed into a Ferris wheel in Sydney<\/a>. She liked that story. No, she didn’t really. Not at all.<\/div>\n
Later on we were strolling down a long, pitch-black, avenue of very tall trees, when they lit up from top to bottom with a couple of hundred long thin strips of white lights.<\/div>\n
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These rippled and flowed, which made it look like it was raining. To add to the effect a couple of fog machines  blew dry ice fog down the alley, and a sound system played rain and wind noises. It was totally enchanting, so we stopped to watch. After a minute or so there were a couple of hundred people stood around, all gobsmacked at the effect. But the best was yet to come. The rain noises stopped, and a "Daft Punk” track fired up. Then the lights burst into colour, and by some computer wizardry, they danced. I kid you not, THEY FUCKING DANCED! In all the gigs and raves I have been to, I have never seen such a display. I was sober and straight as I was driving, and they still made me feel like I was tripping. They moved and danced with the music, they shot forward, back, rotated, pulsed. I was so impressed, and so was Lee-Anne. So impressed in fact, that she didn’t even stop me dancing! (This is a first.) I'm going again next year, this time I'm taking some refreshments before going.<\/div>\n